Easy Squeezy
by Burnedtoasty
Summary: “What? I like your new boobs,” Booster replied, somewhat hurt. “They’re perky.”


**Title**: Easy Sqeezey  
**Disclaimer**: _I, in no way, shape, manner, or form, own the DC universe or the characters said universe contains. All publicly recognizable characters are copyrighted to DC. No infringement is intended.  
_**Fandom**: DC  
**Characters**: Blue Beetle, Booster Gold  
**Continuity**: Comic  
**Warnings**: 63'd heroes  
**Summary**: "What? I like your new boobs," Booster replied, somewhat hurt. "They're perky."  
**Author's** **Note**: D: .... I have no reason. And 63's been done before and better than I, but than I was doodling and it just sort of snowballed from there. And lo, there were many mentions of jiggly-wigglies, and the most immature writer was most pleased. ALSO, BOOBS.

(And on that incredibly insightful note: This is a one-shot. Please to be not messaging about updating one-shots, very specific person.) Harsh, back-breaking criticism encouraged, particularly in regards to characterization and narrative flow. My groove, it is off.

--

Honestly, Booster would have normally expected something more dramatic; like a ray gun, or some test chamber with a ridiculous amount of tubes and pointless light bulbs flickering from every side, or even good old fashioned wizarding. Instead, what he – and Ted, of course, he was there too – got was some dusty smoke that tasted suspiciously like paprika mixed with stale, unprepared oatmeal flakes and a burning sensation that flowed over every nerve ending and particle of skin.

He gagged, throwing an arm over his mouth even though he was already coated in the stuff and meeting—resistance. Much earlier than expected. Squinting down at himself, he took a moment to appreciate the new view, adjust his posture to accommodate a slightly modified pelvis, and then looked for Ted.

His fellow leaguer was half stooped, hacking and retching with little more than an off-putting amount spit trailing out. Booster, ever the considerate friend, grimaced with disgust and politely looked away until Ted was quite done before offering a soothing hand on the back of his shoulder. Blue Beetle muttered something before straightening, swiping the back of his glove over his redefined chin and lips, not seeming to note how the costume had changed to hang loose in strategic positions and tighten delightfully in others. Without turning, he grunted, "Ick. Did you see what way he went?"

"Nope," Booster replied brightly, honking his new assets with one hand absently, watching Ted squint off into the distance.

"He didn't even _try_ to monologue…" Ted mumbled idly, still blissfully unaware of his sudden shift in body shape.

Booster gave himself a few more moments to prepare himself – and note those nifty new changes in Ted's outline – and wonder why the hell anyone would devise a powder to—

"Hey, uh. Ted? How're, um, how're you feeling?"

"Er. Better. Good? Why?" Blue Beetle was dusting himself off, starting at the goggles and mask, working his way down. He'd obviously discover it on his own in a moment, no need to worry him early…

Ted clapped his hands to rid them of the excess, brushed his shoulders…

"Oh, no reason."

…Clavicle…

"Did that taste like—bwuh?"

Bingo.

Ted's expression morphed into something a little more quizzical than surprised, standing there, holding one adequately A-cupped breast like he couldn't remember for the life of him what a boobie was.

"Well, except that."

Blue Beetle pivoted on one heel, opening his mouth—and leaving it like that for an untoward amount of time as he stared at a radically rearranged Booster Gold. His unoccupied hand swung up to point straight at Booster, an accusation and a question. "Bwuh?" And then it promptly gravitated to the second of his bouncy set, as if it were suddenly magnetized, and he looked down. "_Bwuh_?"

"Pretty much."

There was a quiet, strangled noise that somehow managed to originate from the very bottom of Ted's throat.

"Ted? Are you _sure_ you're okay? I don't see what's the—"

"I've got _boobs_, Booster! Boobs! Knockers! Boobs! On _my_ chest! This is a big deal—"

Still fondling his own pair, Booster gave him an appraising look, "Not _that_ big," and gave himself one more solid squeeze in a silent self-congratulatory gesture.

"A big, big, big deal! Oh, God, I don't even—why would he want to—I can't—it's—_boobs_."

"What? I like your new boobs," Booster replied, somewhat hurt for reasons that escaped him. Honestly, twentieth century minds… "They're perky."

"I don't care how perky they are, they're not _supposed to exist_!"

"Small, but plucky, even," Booster continued, unabated. "Not the best pair I've ever seen, but they've got a lot of heart. Metaphorically speaking."

Ted paused, giving Booster what could easily be interpreted as a vaguely hostile stare (which, in fact, it was). "You're taking this very well. Why are you taking this so well?"

Booster's perfectly symmetrical smile could have outshone suns. "Well, in the future—"

"Never mind, I don't want to know anymore." Ted set his head between his hands and moaned into his palms. Booster, consolingly, set his hand on Ted's much more narrow shoulder again, cooing and clucking his tongue in a slightly ridiculous manner. "This is—this is a big deal. I don't think you fully grasp the situation."

"Well," Booster thought about it for a moment, considering. "I _could_," and promptly gave Ted a friendly honk.

Ted did that whine again, and slapped Booster's hand away. "Get your hands off my boobs! There is a no boob-grabbing policy in effect now!"

"Oh, come on! That's the dumbest rule I've ever heard of," Booster threw up his hands dramatically.

"That's the Rule," and he lifted his hand to tick off points on his conspicuously more slender fingers. "No honking, no grabbing, no squeezing – and stop poking yours, it's creepy."

"You were doing the same thing!"

"I was in shock! You're just copping a feel on _yourself_. I'm not doing it anymore, see?" Ted turned abruptly about, arms flung out wide. "This is why we never go anywhere nice. Back to the Bug."

"You never let me do anything fun," Booster rolled his eyes and followed with a jaunty swagger, attempting to maximize sway. Ted, unfortunately, was a few steps ahead of him and failed to appreciate the fruits of his labor.

"Self-molestation is never fun. Unless you're alone."

"Lies. It's more fun when someone's watching," Jiggly. "Hey, what do you think Bats will say?"

"I… I really don't want to think about that right now."

"I'm wondering how to describe yours. I mean, they're not _bad_, but they're not really impressive. They're alright. Average."

"Please stop talking."

"Your ass is still good. It hasn't really changed, now that I think about it."

"_Shut up_, Booster."

"Which is good, because I liked it just fine _before_—"

Ted slapped a hand over each ear, singing, "—Duh-dun-dun-dun-dundun-dun-dundun-can't-hear-you-dun-dundun—"

Booster rolled his eyes again, and slipped by with a particularly good sway in his hips, forcibly stopping himself from cackling when Ted froze mid-step, _Imperial March_ trailing off.

"…er."

Booster flipped his unfortunately short – but still perfectly formed – hair with a flick of the hand, glancing back over his shoulder. "… Ted?"

"Mm?"

"Are you _looking_?"

"No! No, I was—_no_!" Ted sputtered, hands flapping like startled birds, eyes rocketing every which way to avoid Booster's wide smirk. "That's—no."

"You totally were. It's alright, I don't mind," the smirk stretched up into a grin, "You were, weren't you?"

"I was not, you jackass," Ted sniffed, indignant.

"You so were."

"… Just get in the Bug, Booster."


End file.
